Unforgiven Monster, or A Soul That Cries
by AResidentGhost
Summary: Erik is dead, yes. But something has happened. Who is this new life cursed with Erik's burden and soul? Do not read if offended by the idea of reincarnation.
1. I: Truth

The truth? You want the truth? Ah, but you can't handle the truth if it were ever presented to you!

The truth is, Erik did exist. Correction, _does_ exist.

More to the point, he was my great-grandfather. Why do I say "was"? Because he is _dead_, but still _around_. I am Erik fully reincarnate. My name is Aria Amelle Guirre, but I have all of his memories, his talents, even the "curse" of Erik. _ I have no nose. _ And I _look like_ a corpse with eyes that can only truly be seen in the dark. I cry myself to sleep most nights, comforted only by my two cats, Scratch and Bixby. For no matter what I do, I receive no acceptance, or equality. I know I am no monster. Especially not just because of my auspicious birth.

Bixby is pregnant, or so Grandpapa says, and very near to giving birth, but still she snuggles with me. I wonder what the kittens will look like. Her tummy is very swollen, but she does not seem to be all that uncomfortable.

I do not know why I just don't commit suicide. God knows I won't be missed. I have two brothers and a sister that I know of. They all have girlfriends, and in the case of my sister, a boyfriend; in fact, my eldest brother, Samuel, is engaged to be wed. They always said that a boy would rather die than go out with me, much less marry. I must always hide or wear a humiliating mask whenever I go there or when they come to visit. But I am no longer at my real parents' house. My grandfather, God save his soul, took me away from that prison when he noticed how they were treating and taking care of me—which was at the bare minimum of effort to take care of me.

Grandpapa showed me the joys of music. He said to me: "You should have at least one thing to bring you happiness in this life, Aria." I pour my soul into my music with a passion and fervor not unknown to my ancient soul, and I feel a peace, euphoria, unlike anything I've ever felt before. And when I play, I lose myself in the music that I pour from my mind, my heart, and my soul. I have had no training, because they (my parents) have feared and rejected me. Yet, it seems as though I need none, as though I already know how in my dark and ancient soul.

I don't know what I would have done if grandpapa had not, in fact, rescued me when he did. I most likely would have either starved to death or committed suicide. Yes, I said starved to death. I know I barely eat as it is—food just does not appeal to me like it does most people—but what my family did was ridiculous! At times they would forget about me for weeks, and I would not get a single meal! _Even I cannot go that long without food._ For this reason, among others, grandpapa took me to his home in France after visiting my parents in America. He had good timing, as it was one of those times when I had not been offered a meal for weeks, and I was on the brink of unconsciousness. Unconsciousness is the one thing I feared most above all others, for I would find myself with bruises and cuts after regaining consciousness. Before he left with me, he and my birthparents had a huge row. I guess grandpapa won, for immediately after it was over, he came up to my prison-like room and took me. I was not afraid, for I believed that things could not be any worse than they were at that time. Things could only get better. I was right.


	2. II: Curious Creatures

Bixby gave birth to her kittens last week. They are so cute, so unlike me. Why must I suffer so? Why must I always be reminded of this fate to which I was cast?

No use crying over things you can't really control. But how can I make things better? I do not know, but I should not wallow in self-pity, I know that.

People are such curious creatures. They cannot seem to mind their own business. People are starting to try and have a look at me. I do not know whether to be scared, ashamed, or in awe. I've never had this large of an amount of attention paid to me. So I do not know what I should do. Should I show myself to the world or continue to hide?


	3. III: Sorrow and Death

I do not care what they say! I am not a monster! I find myself crying myself to sleep more and more often lately.

Grandpapa is really sick now. I am afraid of what will happen if he dies. Where will I go? What will I do? Will I be allowed to go to grandpapa's funeral? God, I wish I knew.

"Aria?" I hear the one servant who is not afraid of me, and very loyal to the family, such as it is. Her name is _Mirabelle Tolet_, but I call her "_Papillon_", which means "butterfly", for her love of the pretty creatures.

"Yes, _Papillon_?" I call back.

"Master Pierre would like to see you in his chambers."

I hurry down the stairs from the library where I had previously been engrossed in a book on legends. I hope the reason is not why I think it is. I hope he is not in his final moments, oh God, I do not know what I would do! I am an adult, barely 20, yes, but I have no real experience in the world outside. How will I survive?

I have reached grandpapa's room, a room I only remember from when I was but eight years old, having been taken there after waking up from a horrid nightmare.

"Grandpapa?"

"Yes, _ma chere_?"

"Why did you want me here?"

"It is just about my time, Aria. I am dying," he breathed. "This house, everything I own, all my assets, I give to you upon my death. You will also inherit my title, Lord of Shadowlocke, or in your case, Lady, along with being Comtess de Guirre."

"But what about you? Are you not scared? What if mama and papa dispute the claim?" I worry, probably without due cause.

Grandpapa sighs. I start to panic, thinking he has given up the ghost, so to speak. But, no, thank God! I see him take another breath, and I felt relieved. "Aria, it is written in my will for you. Your mother left as soon as she was an adult, and very rarely wrote back home. For, you see, she had run off with an American tourist, whom she later married and became your father. This broke her mother's heart; she never was the same after that. She has no legal say in the matter.

"Do not worry, _mon ange._ I shall watch over you in heaven… Goodbye…" After he said "goodbye", the expected, but still unwanted, occurred. His breath rattled in his throat and the life died in his eyes I begin to weep openly.

"Aria? Are you all right?" _Papillon_ queries.

"What am I to do? Grandpapa has died! Where does that leave me?"

"You are very welcome to stay, my Lady, the House is yours."

"Mine? No joke?"

"_Oui. _ No 'joke'."


	4. IV: Rumors and A Mask

The small town was full of rumors about the new master of the estate on the outskirts of the town. Many claimed that he was old and gray, a disfigured veteran. Others that they are a transvestite or other undesirable. But the truth was no one saw the new lord of the manor.

But the truth is, I am but a corpse in appearance. I cannot bear to think of what they would say if they did see me. Ah, how I loathe simple humanity. This loathing stems and rises from deep within my ancient soul. They do not know how lucky they really are.

They have come once again to the front door of my house. How many times must I remind the groundskeeper to keep the gates shut? I shall have a _talk_ with M. Claren. Or rather have _Papillon_ talk with _him_, as he is rather afraid of my presence. Heh. I thought humanity was past those silly superstitions. I guess not.

"_Papillon_," I call out.

"Yes, milady?" She replies hastily.

"I see that people are at the door again," I remark icily, drawing out my words to emphasize what I am saying. "Would you please tell them to leave?"

"Yes, my Lady."

_Where did that come from? I certainly was not taught to be so cold! _I look out my window, and see the people, the gawkers, the reporters, at the door. They all want one thing: to see me. Why? Would they really want to still if they saw me? Or would they scream in horror as my mother and father did when I was born, and my soul remembers?

I start to cry. This is not who I am supposed to be! Grandpapa told me so! He always told me to ignore the populace, as they tend to be ignorant of what they consider outsiders. In fact, if you feel you must hide, then hide behind a mask, not solitude. I can hear _Papillon_ answering the door. _This is not what I want, _I think to myself. _Time to get this over with._

"Madame Tolet," I cry out from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, my Lady?" She is surprised at my change in attitude.

"I have changed my mind," I say as I step into the light of the landing atop the grand staircase. I have a mask on. A powerful one it is, but very, very old. I do not know how it came to be in my family, but it is an heirloom, nonetheless. The mask itself is black, trimmed with gold leaf. It covers all but my lower lips and chin, the only part of my face to look somewhat normal, albeit still very bony.

"You shall let them in. I shall see one at a time in the library," I finish and then head to the library, one of my favorite rooms in the house. The other, of course, being the music room—my soul yearns for music. _Let the fun begin…._


	5. V: Meet the People 1

"The Master will see you all shortly," Madame Tolet shouts over the din of the crowd. "Now, Master will see only one person at a time and no cameras!"

Normally I hate mirrors. Why? Because they are a cruel reminder of my fate. But I sigh, and give in to the power of image in the mirror. I adjust my mask and clothes. _I am really nervous, _I muse.

A knock interrupts my thoughts.

"Are you ready, Master?" _Papillon_ queries.

"Yes, Madame. Let them in." I turn around as she opens the door so that my back faces the visitor. "And who are you, good sir?"

The person coughs, obviously nervous about the situation. After all, I have dimmed the lights and am encased in shadow. "My name, sir, is M. Michel Marse. I am the local government administrator. A mayor, if you like."

"A mayor, eh? And why did you feel you wanted to come out here, to see me?" I query.

"I, I mean we, just wanted to know who the new Comte de Guirre is. We have not seen him since the old Comte passed away. It has been rumored that he had been living with his grandchild, raising it, yet no one has seen the child. Is it true?"

_He may have just gone too far this time, _I think to myself, and then reply, "What do you yourself think?"

He snorts. "I think it is all hogwash, _bullshit_, as the Americans say."

My eyes narrow. _Who is he trying to fool?_ I can tell he is scared, no matter what he says. I step out of the shadows, looking like a living shadow myself. I laugh. It is a mirthless laugh, but at the same time, rich and powerful. "You don't believe there is a new Comte? I do pity you. Look! Look upon this hideous specter! Perhaps I am but a ghost, non?" He is truly frightened now. I raise my voice into a commanding tone. "Well then! Leave! And take the gawkers with you!" He is cowering in fear now. I know I am a forbidding figure when confronted. _I need to relax; maybe I should take a walk…_

I can hear _Papillon _talking to the crowd in the foyer. I sigh. Why must it always end this way? Why? Can't my life ever be normal? A voice at the back of my mind says, "No. Not as long as you live." I want to cry. My mind is a maelstrom of emotions right now, and I don't know whom to turn to. I yearn for love, companionship, and normality, but I know I will always lack those things. I leave the library and move to the landing on the second floor. Either way, I am already very far past the point of no return. I must now face the people.


	6. VI: Meet the People 2 Tears Unleashed

A figure, clad in black with glowing amber eyes appears at the railing. Who is it? the crowd wonders. Is this the master of the house? The figure whispers, "I'm sorry…."

I close my eyes and sigh. What is the use? The all probably think I am mad anyways. _They are all staring at me! What do I do? I do not know!_

"I, I am the Master of this household. I welcome you into my home. I hope you find yourselves comfortable," I take a deep breath and continue on. _I believe I can do this—I just hope they don't ask about the mask..._

"What is your name?" A little girl blurts out before being hushed by her mother. Her childish innocence makes me laugh. A real laugh, unlike I've done since before Grandpapa died five years before. It is a highly musical laugh, rich, and yet very powerful.

"_Lady_," I hiss. "You should not stifle your daughter so much. She did no harm by asking." The lady looks positively shocked. "My name, mademoiselle, is Aria Amelle Guirre, Lord (or Lady) of Shadowlocke, Comtess de Guirre. Anyone else? Feel free to ask."

"Yes," what looks like a reporter asks, "Why do you wear a mask?"

My blood begins to boil. If they see, they will run in horror and tell every person they meet of the monster that is me! "No one," I growl. "No one will know what lies behind _le comtess's _mask!" I can fell the other personality, my ancient soul, rise up inside of me and tries to take control.

"Show us your face!" Someone shouts, and pretty soon the whole crowd is chanting this.

"_Fine!"_ I shout. "But you must not take any pictures, or run away screaming." I step back into the shadows and remove my mask. I take one step at a time towards the railing. I am trembling tremendously from nervousness. After all, very few people I do not know, even some I do know, have seen my face in all its horrifying glory. My steps reach the railing, and I look out at the people gathered inside. "Is this what you wanted to see? I am very beautiful, _non_?" I can feel _him_ there, in my head, feeding my tongue and my thoughts. _Shut up, Erik. You are only making things worse for this incarnation…._ I can feel him back off.

I hear no whimpers, no screams—why? I realize I have closed my eyes, so I open them. First thing I see: people. In fact, everyone from before…why haven't they run away? Secondly, I notice that most people, though, are staring with eyes and mouth wide open.

I hear light footfalls come up the stairs in the dead silence. Suddenly I feel two arms around my boney leg. "Wh-who are you?" I ask, as I look down. A little girl is _hugging me._ Why? Isn't she afraid? I notice it is the little girl who asked for my name. I crouch down and return her hug. I can feel the tears well up in my eyes when she does not flinch at all.

"My name is Madeline, madam," says the child in a sweet, soft voice.

"I am not married, Madeline. Are you not afraid of me?" The tears of mine are about to flow freely.

"No mademoiselle. You do not frighten me." And I can feel my tears flow, tears long held back from all the _pain_ and _rejection_ I have _ever _encountered_, going all the way back to when, in my ancient soul's past life, I was known as Erik._


	7. VII: Call Me By My Name

There is a boy, well, a young man really, who has moved to this town recently. I simply must invite him over sometime. I have become much less introverted in these last few months. I have gone outside more often than I ever have in my whole life.

"_Papillon_?"

"Yes, mademoiselle?"

"You know you can call me by my name—I will not be offended by it."

"Yes, Mad—umm, Aria. Whatever you say."

"As I was saying," I pause drawing a large breath. "I was thinking of taking a trip. But, I have no idea where to go. Would you like to make a suggestion?"

"I heard Paris is nice in the springtime…"

"But tell me, is it springtime?"

"No," she admits. She looks away from me, so as to hide her uncalled for shame. I reach out with my long, skeletal fingers and gently turn her face to mine. Yet her eyes are still averted as if I was the image of God incarnate. Ha! Like that would ever be true!

""Do not be ashamed. I did not mean to hurt your feelings," I apologize. "Maybe I shall let you have a vacation yourself. Would that not be nice?"

"Yes, Aria."

"I think I shall visit the Mediterranean seacoast. Possibly visit Greece and Italy, even. I have learned of an estate near the sea that belongs to me as heir to the title of Lord of Shadowlocke."

"Yes, milord. I shall make the arrangements."

"Madame Tolet," I say as I draw myself up to my full height. "That will not be necessary. I have already done so. Leave me; I must get some rest to-night if I am to leave this next morning. Goodnight."

A knock sounds at the door to my bedroom. It jolts me out of my nightmarish dreams. Why do I keep having these dreams? Could they be trying to tell me something?

"Are you decent, milady?" It is the butler; my grandpapa's actually, Luc Marcí—a very close family friend.

"Almost, monsieur. Just a second." I leap out of bed and pull on my robe and my mask, my favorite: the black and gold one. I open the door. It is Luc. I thought so.

"My Lady, would you like your breakfast in your room today?"

"No thank you, Luc. I shall take it with everyone else in the kitchen today. Thought I would see you all before I left to go south for the winter."

"Very good, sir." He bows, and leaves. I can hear his heavy tread walking down the stairs. He is getting old, isn't he? Perhaps I should have him come down sometime or allow him a paid vacation? I hurry and get dressed. I am so anxious! And why wouldn't I be? The only other place I've been is where I was born, back in America. I keep the mask on, for although most of the household has seen me without one, there are a few who have not. Especially some of the new servants. They are all paid very well, pretty much guaranteed work on but a few conditions. These conditions, the most important being that they do not _touch_ or _question_ the mask I wear around them or when I feel like it, are around to protect them and me.

As I step into the kitchen's dining room, a hush falls upon the occupants. I know I present an impressive sight, what with the mask and my near seven-foot tall height (it is 6' 9"). "Good morning, people," I say as I send out a glare that would chill a polar bear.


	8. VII: Christoph's Present

"Aria?" M. Luc Marcí calls.

"What, Luc?" I call back.

"There is a _boy_ at the door. He wishes to visit you."

"Send him in."

I stand in the shadows, given away by my amber-hued eyes. He wonders where I am. I must admit he is rather handsome. Compared to me, he would be said to be short. But then again, I would be considered a _giant stick or skeleton._ I would say he's a little less than six feet. He has grey eyes that flash pale blue in the shifting light. He has raven black hair and pale skin. Very adorable. _I think it may be love at first sight, _I think to myself. I know my soul wants to protest, claiming no one would love a monster, yet a part wants to love him.

He speaks. "Hello? Is there anybody there?"

I reply, and my nervousness quickly becomes apparent: "Right here. I-I am sorry if I confuse you. I will come out of the shadows."

I step out of the shadows of the foyer. "What is your age, monsieur?" I ask curiously, my nervousness dissipating, being replaced by excitement and curiosity.

"I am 22, mademoiselle. And my name is Christoph. Christoph Leon. And yours?"

"I, I am Aria Guirre, Lord of Shadowlocke, Comtess de Guirre. And I welcome you to my home. Would you like a drink? Perhaps some water or soda?"

"Some water will do."

"Marabelle!" I cry out. A mousy, plain woman who looks to be a little under five feet enters the foyer.

"Yes, master?" Marabelle queries.

"Please fetch a glass of water for the guest. Bring it to the living room." She bows and hurries out. Christoph looks anxious. I tell him to follow me. We walk in silence; me, just because, and Christoph, out of fear, I believe. I invite him to sit; he declines, saying that he wasn't planning on staying very long. He may be bright and cheerful, but he seems to be very shy.

I decide to break the silence first. "So, Monsieur Leon, what brings you to Shadowlocke Estate?"

"Umm… Well… I heard that you were leaving on a trip, and everyone says you've never left before, so…"

"Yes, go on," I encourage him.

"I thought I would give you a gift to take with you. And a kiss goodbye."

"Why a kiss?" I wonder aloud, as my soul says, _it is not my birthday, and I haven't been all that good..._

"Because you have no-one to give you one. _And_ I come from a family that believes everyone deserves to be kissed. Here's my gift, I did not know if you had any of these or not, so I got them anyway." He hands me a box covered in pretty paper and topped with a bow. "And you wouldn't mind a kiss, would you?"

I was shocked. He _wanted_ to _kiss me? _He obviously doesn't know what I look like or doesn't care… But should I really deny him what I want so badly? "I will…allow it," I whisper. He steps towards me. I can feel fear rising inside me. And then he kisses me. Right on my twisted, all-too-thin lips. A most unexpected, pleasurable sensation floods my mind. He releases me and steps back. I am confused with all the conflicting emotions running through me.

"What was that for?" I ask him.

"Because you seemed so lonely." And then he whispers, "I think I love you, _Erik_."

My mind clicks. Why does he think I am who I used to be? Not many know about my truly ancient soul, for my soul once belonged to a man named Erik. But how would Christoph Leon know about it?

"Open you gift, I'm sure you'll like it," he states cheerfully.

I carefully unwrap the package. Inside are several books. Many I have never read. There is mystery, science fiction, poetry, short stories, horror, and regular fiction, all sorts—except romance. How did he know I dislike romance so much?

"How did you know I disliked Romance novels?" I ask Christoph.

"Well, one day I was out looking for something to do because I was bored. I often like to go to the nearest library on days like that. Well I headed there, and who should I meet? Madame Sonet! Well, Madam Sonet is very good friends with Andre Marcí, who is the son of your butler, yes? Well, she said that you would be leaving for the winter, and seeing that I was _infatuated_ with you, she said I should get you something for a going-away present. She suggested books—anything but romance. So I did. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of-of course not, monsieur," I manage to say to the young man. "Thank you. I shall enjoy reading these."

"You're welcome," he quips. "I have to go now, I hope you don't mind."

"Oh not at all. Come, I'll show you the way out." I stand up and walk back to the foyer. He follows. Before he leaves, he kisses me again.

"Goodbye," he says.

"_Au revior,_" I respond. _Finally, I am free…._


	9. IX: Airports

I am at the airport. I do not remember the last time I was in one, much less alone. I was very young, but I did not travel alone. This is yet another new experience for me. I hope it goes well, unlike what I expect it to. It is not that I am afraid of flying or heights, oh no, that would be impossible with _my _soul. It is just that I am afraid of large crowds. Throughout my whole life I have been extremely uncomfortable in crowds of any size. So much so that I am very susceptible to violent, overpowering panic attacks.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle; may I see your tickets?" A young, _pretty_, cheerful woman in a nice suit asks.

"But of course, Madame," I say as I produce the items she has requested with a flourish, making them appear as if by magic.

She looks at them and says, "Straight ahead. A flight attendant will direct you to your seat once on board. Thank you, please come again."

"Your welcome."

I must have fallen asleep, for I am awakened by the sound of someone announcing that the plane is about to land at our destination. I feel cramped and sore. Why wouldn't I? They don't usually build planes for people as tall as I am…

Someone is waving at me and holding a sign that reads "Aria Guirre" as I exit the gate and enter the terminal building proper. A strangled whisper escapes my lips: "Me?" I head towards the person with the sign. I am unsure about this. What if they are an assassin or a kidnapper? But how could they be? Very few people know or knew when or where I was going exactly.

"My Lady, Aria," the person says as they bow. Underneath my mask, which I have worn in order to not frighten the other people traveling or those around me. The person is actually a teenaged boy. "I am Marcus Guirre-de Chey, you may call me Marcus. I have come to take you to the house you own down here. It is yours, but your grandpa, Pierre, has leased it to my branch of the family for years on the condition that we maintain the house and grounds, not to mention to also allow your family line to stay if ever they so wish. I assume your parents are dead?"

"No," I reply. "They have been expelled from the family for their treatment of me. I am now head of the Guirre line." And in my soul and mind I can hear _Erik_ say, "once again".

"So you are the new Comtess de Guirre?"

"Yes."

"Follow me, milady," he quips. We exit the airport and enter a limo. "To the estate."

The mansion, I am told, is named _Roselawn_. It is very beautiful, vines covering the stone walls. It feels cozy, like a cottage.

"Welcome to _Roselawn_, which you own and shall stay here," M. Guirre-de Chey announces as I step out of the long car.


	10. X: The Boldness of the Woman

I have not seen very many people since coming here. It is as if everyone is avoiding me. I know I like to be alone and have my privacy, but this is ridiculous! A voice, from the back of my mind spits, "_That's because you are a monster! No one loves a freak! You'll always be alone!"_ I can feel tears well up in my eyes. But before they can spill, I feel _him_, my soul, my past incarnation, _Erik_, rise to the forefront, and give me strength and resolve. I will go outside this single floor. After all is it not my house? Not a prison, but rather an escape? An escape from the grief-shrouded house I have lived in for five years since grandpapa died.

"Hello?" I call out. Is there anybody out there?

"Mademoiselle?" Someone has answered! There _must_ be someone here!

I walk down the stairs, out of the gloomy shadows of the fourth floor that I have stayed in for the past couple days. There is a sweet smell in the air, as of someone baking. My stomach growls at me, betraying my hunger and all-too-human need for food. I follow the sweet smell to the kitchen, a big, airy, light-filled room. There is only one person occupying the room besides me. If asked, I would have to say she is in her middle to late forties. Her hair is of the salt-and –pepper variety, although at this point, it is more pepper than salt. She is certainly a most curvaceous woman, but in a matronly sort of manner. She turns around and wipes her flour-covered hands on a towel nearby.

"Well, hello there! Finally decided to join the world of the living, eh?"

Behind my mask, I can feel myself cringe. Her words unknowingly stung me deep inside. Besides looking like a corpse, ii am the object of horror more often than not. And that is why it hurts me when someone refers to me as being among the dead.

"Well don't just stand there, come in! Sit down. Have a taste or two," the lady invites. I walk over to the small table and sit down on a hardback chair. The smell is almost overpowering. I may not be able to resist much longer. But I do not want to take off my mask, cause my countenance would surely frighten the lady out of her mind. "Well, go on, eat what you like, sir. Surely you must be hungry…" She trails off. She looks at me and sees my mask. She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. "You don't need no mask 'round me, no sir. I ain't afraid, if that's what you're wondering. I came from America, where, when I was younger, I served in a hospital for war veterans. So I've seen some bad things done to people, and some people who are horribly scarred, but they never wore a mask. It can't be that bad."

"Are you so sure, madam?" I speak icily.

"Go ahead and take it off, I don't mind. Really."

I reach up behind my head and nimbly unknot the black ribbon with my skeletal hands. I then carefully remove the black full-face mask. I can feel the warm air against my bare skin. I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable scream or gasp of horror. But nothing assaults my ears but the sound of silence. I open my eyes. She is not staring at all.

"Are you not frightened?" I ask.

"Of course not!" She laughs. "I feel bad that the world has forced you behind a mask. What is your name?"

"Aria Amelle Guirre, Comtess de Guirre, Lord of Shadowlocke. But you may call me Aria, though. In fact I'd rather not be called my Lady or Comtess. And what is your name, you who are not frightened by the face of death?"

"True you could gain a lot by a nose and some cosmetic surgery, but…" _God! Could this woman get any more bold and obvious?_ "My name, Aria, is Madame Anne McGregor. You can call me Anne or Annie, if you prefer. Go ahead, try something."

I eye her suspiciously. Does she want me to eat in front of her? She would not object? Wouldn't it be rude? "I don't want to be rude," I whisper. I feel guilty for even thinking about eating.

"Oh, you won't be rude," she dismisses my objections. "I already ate, and seeing as you are the true master of the house, it would not matter anyways. Have a few biscuits and some jam. The biscuits are an old family recipe straight from the South. And there's strawberry jam and butter if you want."

"Thank you, Madame Anne. I'll have the strawberry jam, because that is my favorite." The cook, or baker, for I do not know which she is—if not both—brings a plateful (it is a small plate, so there are only two), and then goes back to what she was doing before I came. I finish the biscuits, excuse myself from the table (I had manners drilled into me at a _very_ early age.), and leave the sunny, cozy, warm kitchen. Somewhere in the house a clock chimes three times. I think I shall explore the house and grounds a bit…


	11. XI: Wanderings

The house is amazing! So beautiful, it goes beyond words!

On the first floor, there is an entertainment center in a cozy little "den". In there is a large-screen television and other things. There is also the kitchen, which I have told you about already, and a grand dining hall, probably used for parties.

On the second floor is a large library. So large, in fact, that it takes up a quarter of the total space! Is it wrong to love a room? Because I certainly am in love with that one. There are several bedrooms scattered throughout the house, but I daren't go in those, because I may be breaching someone's privacy.

After satisfying myself with the inside, I decide to go outdoors. What a surprise awaited me there! A man, who later introduced himself as M. Leonard Decort, the gardener, was wandering around the gardens when I ran into him—literally. After an exchange of hasty apologies, he asked if I would like a personal tour of the grounds. I said yes.

He led me first to the rose gardens. Such roses! In almost every color and shade of the rainbow! So very, very beautiful—_unlike me, _I think to myself. We move throughout the gardens, stopping every now and then to explain some plant or give a bit of trivia or lore. Truth be told, I enjoyed it, and was sad when we parted. The house, I found, is not far from a remote beach on the Mediterranean. It is a private beach, accessible only to the occupants of _Roselawn_. I shall have to go _swimming_ sometime I guess….


	12. XII: Rumors, and the Ghost?

I came here to avoid the gossip, the rumors, but it seems that they are inevitable wherever I go. Today I heard two of the servants _gossiping_ about me behind my back. Of course, they did not know I was there or see me, for they would not have done so because of my fierce temper. I fear that I shall always have to wear a mask and be alert. Not what I want3ed at all. Can I not have any peace and relaxation? Once again I have taken to staying to the floor "set aside" for me as if it were a dungeon.

I do not know how much more of this I can take…. Perhaps it would be easier to just leave? Take away the _Guirre-de Chey _family's trouble and pain I have caused once again. It is just about springtime, and I _was_ planning on taking up the suggestion offered by Madame Tolet. Hmmm…. Paris….

I find myself once again on a plane. This time, back to Paris. Once again, I am cramped and uncomfortable, but soon I won't be. Why? Because the plane will soon land. I sigh. How can people relish traveling by air? I cannot comprehend it.

The _city of love_ is full of so many people. It is remarkable that I haven't had a major nervous breakdown or panic attack yet. I prefer the nighttime to go out, more frequently than not, as there are less people about then. But sometimes I do go out in the daylight. At those times I choose a pretty clever "little" mask of own creation. It is flesh colored, and moves like a real face would! Clever, no? Most can't tell that I am any different—except for my golden eyes—when I put on the mask! This mask was the one I had on today as I ventured outside of my townhouse. I have hired a housekeeper to cook my meals and keep the house clean for me—all I am able to make is tea, which I do very well. She is Madame Tolet's sister, Mademoiselle Juliana Bonmart.

I decided to see and take a tour of the Opera Garnier. _See how some of the money has been used_, I think to myself. Then Erik speaks up from the depths of my dark and lonely soul: _See how things have changed since I left…. "Shut up, Erik,"_ I spit inside my mind. "_I do not need you to make me cause a scene!"_

"Excuse me, mademoiselle," I say smoothly. "Would this be where the tour starts?"

"Yes," she says with a bit of an American accent. She turns and looks at my skeletal frame. "And who are you, sir?"

"I am known as the Comtess de Guirre. Aria Guirre, at your service," I "boast", adding the last with a flourish and a bow. She looks confused. Most people, when they see me, they think that I am a man. It is true that I am flat chested, but I do not have a man's genitalia to put it lightly. I appear very androgynous, which is not helped by my dislike towards dresses.

She starts off by telling a bit about the history of the opera house. After that rather dry speech, she asks how many had heard of the "Phantom of the Opera". Almost everybody raises their hands. I reluctantly raise mine. Deep inside my mind _Erik_ says, "_Opera Ghost, Opera Ghost! How many times have they been told differently?" _I reply to my soul, _Ah yes, I know, but people only know what they are told... and most have not even read Leroux's original book, which favored the _boy_, not you Erik, and had a lot of the facts wrong._

We reach the outside of the infamous box five. I can feel _his_ personality taking over. _Behave, Erik._

"And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the famous, or rather infamous, box five of legend. Legend has it that it was and still is haunted by the Opera Ghost," she tells the group. Erik is feeling quite mischievous.

I throw my voice (Erik is in control now) to be heard to be coming from the empty room. "You have forgotten my salary! Beware! If my demands are not met, t_his opera house will have a curse upon i_t!" I followed with a mirthless, deranged laugh. _Great Erik, _I think to myself. _Now what do I do?_ The group, including the tour guide looks genuinely frightened—some are even white as a ghost and look about to faint! I feign terror myself, but inwardly I laugh.

"What was that?" Someone whispers.

I answer, in jest, "It must have been the Ghost." My face does not betray me at all.


	13. XIII: Family Secrets Untold

There is to be a masked ball at the end of Carnival. I wonder if I should go. But as what? I would not need much make-up to pull that off. Or go as the Phantom, Leroux-style? The Opera Ghost's blood runs in my veins, proud and strong. It is a family secret, kept for generations to avoid persecution. Ah, but it is a couple of weeks away. A lot of time to think about it.

People are naturally suspicious of me. I do not understand why they are suspicious even when I look somewhat normal. With some of my masks I can look very normal, if not beautiful!

Paris is supposed to be the city of love. Yet, I have found no love and none has been given to me. It is all a lie! My frustration grows and multiplies each day. I just pray that the next time I go out in the daylight someone does not realize that I am wearing a mask. I don't know what would happen then, and I would be very afraid for their health.


	14. XIV: The Grand Bal Masque

The foyer is full of revelers, some drunk with spirits, and others drunk with excitement, life, and joy. The gossiping ladies of society are out in full force tonight, catching up on the latest juicy tidbits and always on the lookout for sources for new gossip news.

"Did you hear?" Said a masked man to his dancing partner.

"Hear what?" She answers.

A man with a devil's horned mask interjects, "Did you hear? The new Comte de Guirre! He is to attend tonight!"

In the corners the ladies whisper to each other behind fancy fans while waiting for a partner to choose them to dance. "Did you hear that the Comte de Guirre is to be attending, or at least appear at this ball to-night?"

"Oh really?" Said one of the younger women, barely out of her teens. "Do you think so? Is he handsome? Do you think he would dance with me?"

Another lady, dressed as a fairy, laughs. "You know what _I _heard," she asks. Someone in the group asks her what she heard. "I _heard,_" she continues. "I heard the Comte is not a man, but rather a woman! A comtess…"

Rumors like that were flying through the gathered crowd. I had slipped in, unnoticed, hiding in the shadows and hidden passageways that my soul knows so well. I am Death, known and feared by all. I am the Grim Reaper, the cursed and horrible creature, come to bring death and destruction to the human race.

"Master," a shadow in a feathered mask queries. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Maria. Although you do not need to call me master."


	15. XV: Too Many People

I appear from the shadows, looking for all the world like Death. Whispers quickly spread around the room, asking, "Who's that?" and being replied with: "I do not know."

"Many of you are wondering," I announce. "Who I am. And many are wondering when the new Comte de Guerre would attend. You are all in _her_ presence now." I draw in a deep breath and I feel _Erik_ steel my nerves and strengthen my will. My eyes scan the audience before me. They have fallen silent and still. "I am Aria Guirre, Comtess de Guirre."

I make my way over to a side table, for I am suddenly thirsty. I grab a drink and quickly down it. It is almost too crowded in here for me and my ancient soul. Too many people! This was a bad idea—a very bad idea! I can already hear Erik in the back of my mind screaming at me for my foolish choice and telling me to leave _now_. I gather my cloak around me and head towards the shadows. I want to run, but a part of me says people will stare even more. There should be a trick panel around _here_, says _Erik_ in the back of my mind. I let him come forward and guide our body. A wall opens before me and I slip inside. The door closes behind me leaving me in darkness, yet I can still see well enough to move around.

I emerge outside in the cool night air. There is a difference in the quality of air at night than in the day, at least in the city. I shall leave for Shadowlocke Estate very soon. I miss, I must admit, Madame Tolet and Shadowlocke's garden….

A black limosine pulls up to the sidewalk and stops. I think to myself, _Is someone planning or trying to kidnap me?_ I raise the hood of my cloak further over my head, draping my face in shadow, and step back into the comforting shadows. As I watch, a solitary figure emerges from the vehicle. He exits from the driver's side, so I assume he is the driver.

The man speaks. "Mademoiselle Guirre? Are you there?" he is obviously very nervous. _Is something going on that I don't know about? _I wonder. "I have come to take you back to your home. Don't worry, I'm M. _Claude Dion_, your chauffer for the night."

_He doesn't sound like my chauffer, certainly not the one who brought me here…_, I think to myself. _Although my chauffer's first name is Claude, he is not Claude Dion. It is a trap!_ I suddenly realize. I have to get away without getting caught—and fast!


	16. XVI: Escape!

I edge my body out of the alleyway, careful to stay in the shadows and not be seen. I have to get either someplace safe, or if possible, home, so I can get help.

I always carry two spare masks, just in case of emergency. I am glad I have kept that practice up, as I need one now. I pull out my flesh-colored, life-like mask, and quickly put it on. _Good, now I won't scare anyone who doesn't already know what I really look like. _I start to run, slowly and softly at first, so as not to make a noise. I don't know why I should worry about noise, as normally my footfalls make not a sound… Once I have put a city block between them, and me ii start running full out as fast as I can to put distance between them, and me and also to reach the safety of my home.

I stop on a corner near my home to catch my breath. Did they really not notice me getting away, or am I once again wandering into a trap? I wonder…

Slowly, sticking to the shadows, I make my way home. _It would be too obvious and dangerous to use the front gate, _I think to myself. _I shall use the little-known secret entrance that is not even used by anyone but the members of my family going back generations._

The entrance looks just like the rest of the wall, so anyone who has no need to use it would never find it. I look around to make sure the alleyway is completely empty. Easy to do since there is very little space between the walls of the estates surrounding the path. In fact, very few people even know about the passage itself, as it is practically hidden by some vegetation that was planted to hide the blot on the street's beauty. Anyways, there is no one. I find the trick stone, activate it, and the false wall opens to reveal a slim descending staircase of stone. As I step inside and head down, the hidden door closes automatically. The stairs lead down to a secret tunnel to the house… and other areas.

"Maria!" I cry out us I burst out of the library. A girl comes running up to me.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I have called the cops and asked for them to send over some protection. Now when they come I want you to tell them to stand guard at my bedroom door, but not to come in. Give them this," I hand over a sheet of paper that explains what has happened to me. "But make sure they are real. Ask them this: 'The sky is what color?' If they answer 'Red.', let them in. Any other colors, especially blue, refuse them entry. Goodnight."


	17. XVII: Trapped Again!

I awaken to the sound of two thuds outside my bedroom. Though the noise was not very loud, it woke me up completely . I reach under my pillows and grab hold of the knife I keep there, and pretend to sleep while my senses are fully alert.

Two figures have entered my room. I dare not open my eyes, because then my cover will definitely be blown. I hear their footfalls come closer to my bed. _Wait; wait till the right time…_ they are right next to my bed. _Now!_

In a flash my eyes are open and the knife is in one of the men's chest. I yank it out and he collapses in a pain-filled heap. I growl, low and surprisingly deep. I leap out of my bed and position myself into a fighting stance with the ease and the grace of a cat. Another of the men advances upon me. I lash out, managing to slash his arm deeply. Blood starts to gush from the wound. So focused am I on this one man and the others near him, that I don't hear someone else come up behind me until it is too late. I feel a needle or something of the sort plunge into my neck, and then a growing lightheadedness.

The last thing I hear is a gravelly voice saying, "Nighty-night, _freak_." And then everything goes black.


	18. XVIII: Read All About It!

It was all over the news the next day. Headlines read: "**Comte Kidnapped!**", "**Young Lord Held Captive!**", "**Ransom Demanded For Return of Lady**", and other such headlines like that. Rumors were going around that the victim was actually dead, even.

The townhouse where the victim was taken from is a horrific scene. The police found two officers outside the master bedroom with their throats slit from ear to ear. Inside the room they found what could only be described as buckets of blood. Some of it was obvious where it came from. A man in dark clothes had been stabbed deeply in the chest and had, as a result, died.

Many things had been smashed and broken beyond recognition. It was obvious that a struggle had taken place. But what exactly happened, and is the victim alive still? That is not known, and will have to be figured out by the detectives working on the case…


	19. XIX: Kidnapped and Knots

I wake up, very groggy, and it makes me wonder. Why? Because usually when I wake up, I am fully alert. I struggle to sit up, and find I cannot move my arms! I try to speak, but find myself gagged. I have to get out of here!

Slowly I use my long fingers to pick at the knots in the rope binding my arms together. I hear a noise outside my cell. I stop picking at the knots and hold myself absolutely still. Perhaps I will not get hurt worse if I do not move…

The door opens. A man, dressed in the latest fashions, enters. _Who is this?_ I wonder. Another, shabbily dressed, burly man enters behind him. The rich man whispers something to the muscled man in his ear. He comes towards me. I try to get away from him, but there is nowhere to go. I close my eyes, expecting the worst. But all that happens is that I can feel the gag gone. I want to speak, but I am afraid to.

"You are wondering what is going on, no doubt," the man purrs. "No need to answer aloud." He laughs. "You are my prisoner. I am Comte Julian de Arancourt. You will be sold to perform as a freak exhibit. You will not even think about escaping or you will be killed. I will have someone come for you when it is time to show you off."

They leave. _Good, they did not notice what I was doing previously. _I resume picking at the knots in the ropes. There! I can get my hands free. I quickly start picking the rope binding my ankles. This proves much easier than before. _Most likely because I have free use of my hands, _I think to myself. I decide to keep the rope, just in case.

I stand up and stretch my sore body. After stretching, I move over and try to open the door. Locked! Of course! Who would be stupid enough to keep the door unlocked? I decide to wait for them to come back. I make it look like I am still tied up, but am not, and then I fall asleep.


	20. XX: Escape!

I wake up in a different room. There is no guard, but there is a pile of rags, which I am guessing he wants me to wear. However I have the advantage. Though they may have taken me when I was asleep, I was not dressed in nightclothes. And they did not search me, I find. I take off my shirt, discarding it after combing the inner, unseen pockets. Yes… I am by no means unarmed.

I open the door quietly. I see one man outside the door. I quickly dispatch him with my Punjab lasso, letting Erik control my movements.

I hurry onwards, and end up stumbling out onto a stage of some sort, but there is no audience… yet. I jump down off the stage and run up the aisle. I listen at the door—there are people out there! _How do I get out of here? _And from my old, dark soul, _Erik_ suggests to me to let him take over. I let him. Seemingly from outside the auditorium, comes a cry of "Fire!", and a mad rush of people can be heard leaving.

Silence. Beautiful silence greets my ears, signaling to me that it is safe to leave. I place a mask that is flesh colored and makes me look like any other person but me. I open the door, grab a long coat from a closet, and put it on. Surprisingly, it fit. In fact, it seemed to have been tailored to fit me… was it possible that is was held longer than I thought? I look at myself in the mirror. _Do I look like myself, Erik? _I ask my soul. And he answers, _Nothing like us._

I walk outside. No one gives a second thought to me, other than a single question: "What took you so long?" To this I answer, "I got lost, that's all. It is, after all, such a large house", and they don't think anything of it. And so I made my way to the back of the crowd and out of sight. I call M. Claude Bachel, my real driver, and who helps run the townhouse.


	21. XXI: Investigation

The officer eyes me warily. Is he wondering about the plethora of masks the police most likely found when they searched my house for clues about my disappearance? I am growing ever more impatient. And it probably shows in my amber-hued eyes.

"Did you ever gain the name of your kidnapper?" The younger of the two men asks calmly.

"Julian de Arancourt," I hiss. "_Comte_ Julian de Arancourt." Painful memories flood my mind of a time of being held captive against my will. Some recent, others from before I was born—from my soul's days of being known as simply _Erik_. I can feel _Erik_ struggling and fighting to "come forward". I have to mentally keep shoving him back and I tell him I do not want to create a scene. One of the _gendarmes_ writes in the little pocket notebook. "Thank you for your time. If there are any more developments we will contact you. Good night, madam."

"Goodnight, _messieurs_."


	22. XXII: The End?

Ever since I escaped from my kidnappers. I have _always_ carried the Punjab lasso and at least one dagger hidden somewhere on me whenever I went out of my home's grounds, and sometimes even the house. There was an investigation into the kidnapping, which ended up leading back to the Comte de Arancourt and the Mascen family. The comte was the mastermind, and the Mascen family was the people who carried his orders out. Fortunately, all were convicted, and Julian de Arancourt is now serving time in a maximum-security prison, and has been stripped of his title.

Today I decided to take a walk in the park. Not many noticed me as I stuck primarily to the less-visited paths, though those that did see me could not help but stare. After all, is it not human nature to be curious? And their curiosity would certainly be provoked by what they had seen and heard in the news lately. For that (my kidnapping and subsequent escape) has been all that anyone has been talking about lately. Anyways, as I was walking, I was thinking about my situation. It is quite lonely, really, when cursed with a face like mine. Yes, lonely.

But I have resigned myself to this fact now, and is no longer so hard to deal with or even accept. I go back to Shadowlocke tomorrow, and shall resume my solitary life once again. For I know no one will ever accept me for who I am, but will reject me solely on the basis of my physical imperfections. Perhaps that kind young boy will still be around?

* * *

A/N: There will be a sequel to this story. Thanks for everyone's helpful support! 

The sequel will be named "Love Blooms In Darkness".


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